Revelations
by Collie
Summary: Xander unwillingly sells his soul, and it's saved by the most unlikely person. (BtVS/AtS Crossover)


TITLE: Revelations.   
AUTHOR: Collie.   
SUMMARY: Xander unwillingly sells his soul.   
RATING: R. Language and evil Satan stuff.   
FEEDBACK: It's what makes the world go 'round.   
SPOILERS: None specific, really. Everything up to 'Into the Woods' for 'Buffy', and none for 'Angel'.   
DISTRIBUTION: YGTS? and Through My Eyes. Anyone else, just let me know.   
DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to Joss except Lucifer. He belongs to himself. I don't really want him. I doubt any of you do, either.   
NOTE: Answer to challenge #27 at YGTS?   
DEDICATION: To Ragna. I took what could have been an innocent little happy story and made it all angsty and terrible. Thanks! Also thanks to Fabrisse for supplying a last name for Spike.   
  
  
Xander took a tentative step down the stairs into Willy's Place. He didn't know why he'd chosen such an evil and seedy location for his mission (there were plenty of other places just as seedy and just as non-evil he could have gone to for this), but he supposed it was just the Hellmouth in him.   
  
The place was pretty empty tonight. Well, it was a Tuesday night. Not big on the partying with demons on weekdays, he guessed. Must be more of a weekend thing. Weekdays are for destroying the world -- working days and such. He rolled his eyes at his train of thought and drew up to the bar, catching Willy's eye. Willy sighed, grabbing a bottle of 100 proof Southern Comfort from the bartop and placing it back on it's place on the shelf, then walked over to Xander, dish towel draped over his shoulder.   
  
"What do you want, kid? You know I really can't serve you. I may serve evil minions from hell.. but I still do get the occasional bent cop down in here."   
  
Xander just stared at him, then shrugged.   
  
"And the difference is..?"   
  
Willy scowled and made to walk away, but Xander stopped him.   
  
"Hold up.. I need some information. Nothing big. Not even evil-like. I figured you for the best source, since.. well.. you're down with all the dirty dealings in this town."   
  
Willy sighed and nodded, leaning in close to Xander.   
  
"Yeah, what's up, kid?"   
  
Xander cast a glance around, then spoke, his voice a dramatic stage whisper.   
  
"I need some help acquiring a fake ID"   
  
Willy just stared at him for a minute, then snorted back a laugh.   
  
"You're jokin'.. get the hell outta here, kid."   
  
Xander smirked and shook his head.   
  
"Nope. I'm serious-guy. Don't ask me why I came here.. well, I know why I came here. It's the scummiest place *I* know of. I figured maybe you'd know someone I could hook up with."   
  
"I believe I may have what you're looking for, young man."   
  
Both Willy and Xander glanced up at the sound of a new voice. It came from a man sitting alone in a dark corner booth across the bar. The man was half in shadow, but Xander could already tell that he didn't belong in a hole like this. He was very well dressed -- nicely cut black suit, black dress shirt, and a tie that appeared black until the light caught it just right, then Xander could see it was actually a very dark red. His hair hung straight and fine down to his shoulders, a slightly reddish-brown color. His eyes were a piercing blue and they were focused solely on Xander. Xander nodded slowly, then glanced back to Willy, who looked like he was on the verge of a slight wiggins.   
  
"You know that guy, Willy?"   
  
Xander jerked his chin in the direction of Mr. Sharp-Dressed-Man, and Willy nodded slowly.   
  
"I.. I know *of* him, kid.. and I don't think he's what you're looking for."   
  
Suddenly, that voice was right behind Xander.   
  
"Now, now.. don't be foolish, William. I'm sure this young man can handle his own affairs. He seems quite.. capable."   
  
Willy glanced up, nodding slowly, then stepped away, rubbing at the bartop with his towel, muttering softly to himself. Xander turned as the man caught him lightly by the elbow, guiding him back to the booth without a word. Once settled in, the man folded his hands on the tabletop, smiling softly at Xander.   
  
"I understand that you're interested in acquiring some false identification. I can help you with that. Trust me -- you're in better hands with me than you would be at the mercy of some common street thug who would likely take advantage of a young man like yourself. They have no respect for their customers. I have found that in any type of business arrangement, a pleased customer is a return customer."   
  
Xander paused.   
  
"But.. with this kind of.. business.. why would a pleased customer need to return?"   
  
The man blinked, then just shook his head. He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and withdrew a small card and a nice-looking pen. He placed both on the table, slowly sliding them across the table to Xander.   
  
"Nevermind that. All I need from you is some information. You fill this out, and your 'package' will arrive on your doorstep within the next twenty-four hours; no questions asked."   
  
Xander glanced down at the card, blinking slightly. The words seemed to waver in front of him, but he dismissed it as the smoke from the bar bothering his eyes. Typical information for an ID card. Full name, height, weight, hair and eye color, date of birth, and signature. Xander nodded slowly and took up the pen, but paused before writing anything.   
  
"Wait.. what about payment? All I can really afford right now is about fifty dollars."   
  
The man waved his hand, dismissing the question.   
  
"Payment is collected after I'm sure that the customer is completely satisfied. If you are unhappy with your purchase, I wouldn't dream of making you pay for it. I will come to you and collect when I see that you are pleased."   
  
Xander's head felt heavy, and it was a bit difficult to nod, but he did so.   
  
"Sounds fair."   
  
He filled in the information, his head getting a bit more heavy, his thoughts muddling slightly. He was finding it a bit difficult to think straight, but before he realized, he was finished. All that was left was the signature. He raised the pen to sign, but stopped when he felt the man's hand on his own. He glanced up and saw that the man was holding out a different pen to him. It looked old-fashioned, like it required an inkwell for dipping. Xander furrowed his eyebrows, taking the pen in a daze.   
  
"What's this for?"   
  
The man simply smiled, folding his hands on the bartop once again.   
  
"I require that your signature be signed in blood. That won't be a problem, will it?"   
  
Xander glanced up quickly, his head spinning at the sudden movement. As he met the man's eyes, suddenly the idea of signing in blood didn't sound so crazy. Xander shrugged slightly, bringing the sharp point of the pen to the thin skin of his inner wrist, wincing slightly as he pushed the tip through, a smallish bead of dark red blood welling up.   
  
"No.. no, not at all.. I guess."   
  
And he signed.   
  
He slid the small card and the two pens back across the table to the man who quickly snatched them up and slid them back inside his coat pocket. Xander reached for a cocktail napkin to wipe the blood from his wrist with, but when he looked, there was no wound. He frowned, turning his hand over, looking for any trace of blood. As soon as it had begun, his head started to clear. Xander blinked a few times then glanced up at the man. He smiled at Xander.   
  
"Is something the matter, Mr. Harris? You seem a bit.. disoriented."   
  
Xander shook his head slightly, his voice soft with confusion.   
  
"No, it's just.. I could have sworn you asked me to sign my name in blood."   
  
The man let out an amused chuckle, sliding from the booth to stand next to Xander.   
  
"What do you take me for? Satan, perhaps? No, Mr. Harris -- your soul is safe with me."   
  
The man winked, patting his coat where underneath Xander's information lie.   
  
"Now, I just require a small photograph of you, and I'll be on my way."   
  
Xander nodded, taking out his wallet and searching around for his senior year high school photo, brought with him just for this occasion. He handed it up to the man who accepted it and placed it in his pocket along with the rest of Xander's information.   
  
"Thank you. You should receive your identification card soon, Mr. Harris. It's been a pleasure doing business with you."   
  
He reached out his hand and Xander obliged, sliding his hand into the man's grasp. As soon as they made contact, Xander felt as if he were falling. As sudden as it hit, it was gone, and Xander was alone in the bar. He jumped up, feeling none of the weirdness that had just overcome him. He blinked a few times, then shook his head, making his way to the door. He paused as Willy's voice sounded out to him.   
  
"Get what you were looking for, kid?"   
  
Xander turned and nodded slightly, running a hand through his mussed hair.   
  
"Yeah, I-I think so.."   
  
Willy nodded, a very slight concerned expression on his face.   
  
"Yeah. Hope it was worth it."   
  
With that, he turned his attentions to an ugly demon sitting at the far end of the bar.   
  
"Hey.. hey! I told you not to sit at the bar if you can't keep your dripping slime under control, Roy. I gotta clean this place, you know. There are health codes to comply with!"   
  
The demon grunted.   
  
"Oh, lay off, Willy. I only came in to show you my new tattoo."   
  
Willy walked over to him, nodding.   
  
"Let's see it, then."   
  
The demon rolled up his sleeve, revealing a tattoo of a flaming eyeball. Willy nodded in admiration.   
  
"Pretty cool, man. How much that set you back?"   
  
Xander stared as the conversation faded out around him, then he just shook his head and walked out of the bar.   
  
"Note to self -- never, ever come here again.   
  
***   
  
**The next morning --**   
  
Xander tossed and turned in his sleep. There were images flying around in his dreams - images of places he'd never seen, but somehow knew he would. Images of people he didn't know, but he knew it was only a matter of time. Pain and anger, suffering and fright, endless torment.. but he could never get a grasp. The images flew too quickly.   
  
His eyes flew open and he jumped awake at a persistent knocking at his front door. He lay still for a few moments as his surroundings came back to him. He was in his apartment. Anya was sleeping soundly beside him. He was surprised that she hadn't awoken from all of his movements, but he put the thought aside as the knocking came again. He shook his groggy head and slipped out of bed, pulling on an old pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a thin tee-shirt. He shut the bedroom door soundlessly and made his way to the front door, opening it slowly, wincing at the harsh light that poured in from the hallway. When his eyes adjusted, he made out what appeared to be a very flustered and almost frightened-looking mailman. Xander blinked in surprise.   
  
"Can.. I help you?"   
  
The mailman thrust a package at Xander he accepted it with a confused look. The mailman looked about ready to jump out of his skin, glancing up and down the hallway like he wanted nothing more than to bolt from the door.   
  
"This is for you. I was given instructions to deliver it personally. Um.. h-have a nice day, sir."   
  
Then he took off down the hallway. Xander raised an eyebrow and leaned out into the hallway, watching the retreating figure. He shrugged and stepped back inside, locking the door and flipping on the light switch. He glanced down at the package which was simply a small manilla envelope with his name and address typed on front, but nothing else. No return address, not even a stamp or postmark. He shrugged again and walked into the kitchen, flipping on the coffee maker. He tossed the envelope down on the table and switched on the television. Then it all came back to him. His ID card. He rolled his eyes and smacked himself on the forehead.   
  
"Way to be intelligent, IQ boy."   
  
He retrieved the package and tore it open. His eyes widened at the card. It looked real. Exactly.. real. He was impressed. He turned it around in his hands, examining it. It was like the guy had gone to the DMV and gotten him a real ID.   
  
"Wow. He really *does* take care of his customers."   
  
Xander reeled as a sudden wave of dizziness overcame him. He grabbed the edge of the table, dropping the ID to the ground, placing his free hand on his head.   
  
"Whoa. Time for coffee."   
  
He stood still for a few moments, insuring that the dizzy spell had passed, then knelt down to retrieve the card. He glanced over it again, checking the information. Name was right. Height, weight, hair and eye color, all right. The only thing that was off was his date of birth. Sure, the year would be wrong, it was a fake ID.. but the actual date itself was incorrect. This date was a week away. Xander shrugged and dropped the ID on the table, then made his way to the coffeemaker, talking to himself.   
  
"Guess that doesn't really matter. All that really matters is the year, right?"   
  
He opened the cabinet and took down a coffee mug, which he promptly dropped as another wave of dizziness struck him. This one took him to his knees. Xander flinched as his hand came in contact with a piece of broken coffee mug, and be brought his bleeding finger to his face. He stared at the blood welling up. He blinked a few times, nodding to himself.   
  
"Yes.. blood. Sometimes a sacrifice is necessary.."   
  
His train of thought was interrupted as Anya walked into the kitchen, yawning and rubbing her eyes. She stopped, staring at Xander on his knees on the kitchen floor, broken porcelain scattered around him, staring at his bleeding finger.   
  
"Xander?"   
  
Xander jerked out of his thoughts at her voice, a goofy smile sliding across his lips.   
  
"Oh, morning, honey. Sorry if I woke you. Dropped a mug."   
  
Anya nodded, sitting at the kitchen table.   
  
"It's all right. I slept my entire eight hours. I am refreshed and ready to start the day."   
  
Xander nodded and picked up all of the broken pieces of the mug, dropping them into the waste basket. He pulled down two more mugs, filling them with coffee as Anya's voice drifted out to him.   
  
"Xander? This identification card is incorrect. What is the point of an identification card that is incorrect?"   
  
Xander glanced over and saw Anya waving the card around. His eyes narrowed in anger, but he quickly recovered, bringing the two mugs of coffee over to the table and setting them down, seating himself as well.   
  
"It's a fake, Anya. It's so the guy at the door thinks I'm actually 21."   
  
"At the door? What are you talking about?"   
  
Xander took the card from her fingers and slid a mug towards her.   
  
"There's a band I wanted to see playing at a nearby club tonight. Problem is, the club is only for people 21 and over. I couldn't get in without this."   
  
Anya nodded, taking a small sip from the cup.   
  
"Oh. I see. What band?"   
  
Xander turned the card in his fingers, staring absently at it.   
  
"Oh, um.. A Perfect Circle. they're doing a small clubs tour. But, now that I think about it.. I'm not really in the mood to go out tonight. I think I'll just stay in."   
  
Anya smiled, perking up instantly.   
  
"Good. That means sex.   
  
Xander laughed softly.   
  
"Yes, honey. That's what it means."   
  
Anya nodded, smiling into her coffee. Xander stood, slipping the card into his pocket, then sat again, finishing up his coffee.   
  
***   
  
**A few days later later --**   
  
Spike walked through the cemetery, heading back towards his crypt. Another night, another article of the Slayer's clothing to sniff. He shook his head, marveling at his patheticness. He stopped and fished about in his pockets for his pack of cigarettes. Finding it, he drew one out and placed it between his lips. As he lifted the lighter to light it, his eyes set on something one wouldn't normally see in a cemetery at this time of night -- Xander Harris walking around aimlessly with a dead black kitten in his hands.   
  
Spike paused, the flame on the lighter dying off as he watched Xander. The boy stopped walking and Spike ducked behind a tree, his curiosity strongly overpowering his urge to confront the boy. Spy now, take the piss out later, that was his motto.   
  
Xander slowly laid the dead animal out on one of the larger headstones, then reached into his back pocket, pulling out a knife. Flicking out the blade, he brought it to the cat's belly, slowly slicing it open. Spike frowned, shoving the unlit cigarette back into his pocket. He watched as Xander's lips began to move, but not a word came out. This was just creepy, even for Spike's standards. Time to spy has passed.   
  
Spike pushed himself away from the tree and strolled over to Xander, his voice conversational.   
  
"Nice night for a sacrifice, wouldn't you say, Harris?"   
  
Xander didn't reply. In fact, he didn't acknowledge Spike at all. Spike furrowed his brow, stopping just short of the boy, waving his hand in front of Xander's face.   
  
"Hello? Anybody at home? Is this some kind of sex thing between you and demon-girl? She get off on the hunter-gatherer aspect of the male species or something?"   
  
Still, no reply. Spike was now bored. He sighed and grabbed Xander by the shoulder, shaking him.   
  
"Harris! What in the bloody hell are you doing, disemboweling a cat in my cemetery?"   
  
Xander blinked, his eyes focusing on Spike. His lips twisted into a sneer and he reached up, throwing Spike's hand off of his shoulder.   
  
"Walk away, Spike. This doesn't concern you."   
  
Spike narrowed his eyes, taking a step towards Xander.   
  
"Bloody hell it doesn't."   
  
Spike reached out, placing his hand on the cat to grab it and toss it away, but as soon as his hand made contact with the animal's fur, it had a very sharp blade through it. As a matter of fact, the blade was through his hand, through the cat, and embedded into the tombstone itself. Spike let out a roar of pain, reaching with his free hand to pull at the knife. He wrenched it free, tossing both cat and knife to the ground, grabbing his hand as his game face slid on in anger. He snarled up at Xander.   
  
"Would you mind telling me just what the fuck you think you're doing?!"   
  
Xander just smiled.   
  
"Don't worry, Spike. You'll see. You'll all see. Soon."   
  
And with that, Xander turned and walked away, leaving a very angry, injured, and confused vampire staring off after him.   
  
***   
  
**The next night --**   
  
Xander and Giles were sitting alone at the table in the Magic Box when Spike walked in. Giles sighed as he saw the blond vampire, but Xander just smiled, staring at the deck of cards in his hands, shuffling them again and again. Giles glanced up at Spike, who had stopped at the edge of the table and was staring down at Xander.   
  
"Do you need something, Spike? If you're looking for Buffy, she's in the back, training."   
  
Spike said nothing, but continued to watch Xander. Xander glanced up at Spike and slowly winked. He gathered up the deck of cards and slowly flipped the first card over. Ace of spades. Spike watched closely. Xander flipped another. Ace of spades. Spike raised an eyebrow. Xander flipped another. Ace of spades. Spike grabbed the rest of the deck from Xander's hand. Xander stood slowly, anger written across the features of his face.   
  
"Hand 'em over, Spike. You don't wanna play with this."   
  
Spike growled softly at Xander, turning the deck over and spreading it out on the table. All of the card faces were the ace of spades. The death card. Giles glanced over, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh.   
  
"Spike, do leave Xander alone. If you're bored, you're more than welcome to leave."   
  
"Yeah, blondie. Why don't you just fuck off?"   
  
Giles shot a surprised look at Xander, whose venomous gaze was fixed on Spike. Spike stepped over to Xander, getting right up in his face.   
  
"You got something to say to me, Harris?"   
  
Xander smiled and nodded, then reached over to a nearby display of heavy wooden idols, picking one up and slamming Spike across the face with it. Giles jumped up, mouth agape.   
  
"Xander! What has gotten into you?!"   
  
Xander shot a hate-filled gaze at Giles, who flinched back from it.   
  
"Shut the hell up, *Rupert*. This doesn't concern you."   
  
He'd barely gotten the last word out before he found himself sprawled out across the table, Spike's fist having connected very solidly with his jaw. Giles' eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up into his hairline. He scrambled back towards Buffy's training room, calling out her name.   
  
"Buffy! Get in here, now!"   
  
Spike growled, jumping up on the table and straddling Xander, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling him up, eye-level. Xander smiled, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Spike searched the boy's eyes, his own narrowing at what he saw. He opened his mouth to tell Giles to call off his pet Slayer, but soon found himself sprawled out on the ground, Buffy's foot on his throat, a stake hovering dangerously close above his heart. Buffy's face was twisted in anger.   
  
"You have five seconds to explain yourself, Spike, or Mr. Pointy has just found himself a brand new friend."   
  
Spike reached up for Buffy's foot, pushing it off just enough to get the words out.   
  
"His eyes. Check his eyes."   
  
Buffy glared.   
  
"What the hell are you talking about?"   
  
Spike growled in exasperation, pushing at Buffy's foot.   
  
"Back off, and I'll tell you!"   
  
Buffy withdrew her foot and grabbed Spike by the front of his coat, slamming him against a nearby wall.   
  
"Talk. Fast."   
  
Spike looked over at Xander who was slowly climbing off of the table, that very same smirk still on his lips. Spike looked back down at Buffy.   
  
"Have you ever looked into Angel's eyes when he was angry? I mean, really angry? Ready to pummel the next thing he sees into dust, soul or no soul?"   
  
Buffy frowned, shrugging slightly.   
  
"Yeah, I guess.. what of it?"   
  
Spike jerked his chin towards Xander.   
  
"Your boy over there has the same look. That look of the soul fightin' with the demon. Fightin' for dominance. Only the whelp has no demon. It's only his soul fightin' to hang on. I don't bloody know what's goin' on here, Slayer.. but I do know that your boy seems to be in serious danger of loosin' his own."   
  
Buffy glanced over her shoulder at Xander. He was slowly and deliberately picking up each and every card that had been flung on the ground. Spike looked as well, seeing that the cards were all back to normal. Buffy looked back at Spike, anger in her eyes once more.   
  
"Why the hell should I believe you? You hit him. You can't hit him with that chip in your head. How do I know you just didn't find a way to deactivate it, and you're just trying to get us all off guard?"   
  
Spike rolled his eyes, growling in frustration.   
  
"Slayer, if this chip in my head was deactivated, don't you think I'd be KICKING YOUR ASS RIGHT ABOUT NOW?!"   
  
Buffy glared at him for a second, then let him go. Spike stumbled a bit, straightening out his coat. Buffy stalked over to Xander, who was once again seated at the table, turning over cards.   
  
"Xander?"   
  
Xander smiled but did not look up.   
  
"Buffy."   
  
"Xander, look at me."   
  
Xander nodded, then turned to look up at Buffy. She lowered her head, her eyes searching his. Spike was right. It was just like she'd seen in Angel. She didn't know how or why, but his soul was slipping away. Xander's voice brought her back.   
  
"Hey, Buff? there's something I've been meaning to tell you.."   
  
Buffy nodded slowly.   
  
"What is it, Xand?"   
  
Xander reached up and grabbed her by the hair, spitting in her face.   
  
"Fuck you."   
  
Buffy jumped back, her eyes wide, mouth hanging open. She slowly reached up, wiping Xander's saliva from her face with the back of her hand. Before she could react, Spike had Xander by the throat. He growled at the boy, who just laughed. Spike shut him up by slamming his head hard against the table. Xander passed out cold. Spike stood back, a deep frown creasing his features. Buffy looked helplessly to Giles, who flustered about, picking up some books.   
  
"I-I.. suppose we'll have to start.. researching the possible, uh.. anything that might have caused this to happen.."   
  
Spike shook his head, grabbing Xander up and tossing him over his shoulder like a coat.   
  
"No need, Watcher. I know someone who can help him. I've seen this kind of thing before."   
  
Buffy sat down slowly next to Giles.   
  
"Who can help him? What's wrong?"   
  
Spike glanced at Buffy, who looked on the verge of tears.   
  
"Well, Slayer -- if I'm not mistaken.. the only way for a mortal to lose their soul is if they sign it away to the big boss below."   
  
Buffy and Giles both gaped. Giles spoke up first.   
  
"Y-you can't possibly mean that.. Xander has sold his soul to Satan..?"   
  
Spike nodded.   
  
"I've seen it before. It's not too uncommon. Lucifer's crafty these days. He doesn't grant favors in exchange for souls anymore. He tricks mortals into it. Gives them something they want and unwillingly gets them to sign themselves over. Back in the old days, when people were more superstitious and believed in God and the Devil more than they do now, he could come and go as himself. These days, he has to play games. I'm willing to bet old Xander here was looking for something and ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. It's not too late, though. He's still here."   
  
Giles stood, placing his glasses back on his nose.   
  
"You said you knew someone who could help?"   
  
Spike hefted the slipping boy back up on his shoulders and nodded.   
  
"Who has more firsthand experience with Hell than everyone's favorite poofy avenger?"   
  
Buffy glanced up, her eyes pained.   
  
"A-Angel?"   
  
Spike nodded again.   
  
"I take him down there, we call up Mr. The-Devil-Himself, and we strike a bargain. Lucifer likes to bargain. I can get your boy's soul back for you."   
  
Buffy stood, joining Giles.   
  
"But.. how? Bargain with what?"   
  
Spike shook his head.   
  
"Let me worry about that. I'm going now. Kid doesn't have much time."   
  
And with that, Spike turned and walked out of the Magic Box, leaving an astonished Slayer and her Watcher staring after him.   
  
***   
  
**Many hours, and a few hundred miles later --**   
  
"If you want a soul, take mine."   
  
Angel growled at Lucifer, who just smiled and shook his head.   
  
"I'm afraid that is not permittable. You see, your soul has served it's time in Hell, Angelus. I have had my fun with you. The boy's soul is mine. Fair and square, as you people say."   
  
"You'd take an unwilling soul over a willing one? And here I thought you were the great dealmaker. A real negotiator. Bad business, if you ask me."   
  
Angel let out a short laugh.   
  
"It's rather pathetic, the way you have to get your kicks, and you see nothing wrong with this. Why should you? It is the only life you have ever known. God did right casting you down to Hell."   
  
Lucifer simply shrugged, the ever-present smirk remaining.   
  
"God's ruling is a classic overreach."   
  
Before Angel could ask what he meant by that, Xander's voice rang out.   
  
"I don't see why you're making this any of your business, Deadboy. It's not like we're exactly pals or anything. Last time I checked, I had a rather deep disliking for you, and you weren't too fond of me, either."   
  
Angel shot a glare at Xander.   
  
"I'm doing this because it's my job. You're an innocent. I'm protecting you. Now sit down, and shut the hell up."   
  
Xander rolled his eyes, an insulting laugh spilling from his lips.   
  
"Oh, right. Helping the helpless. Well, I'm not fucking helpless, Deadboy. Just because you have something to prove to Buffy, doesn't mean you have to suck me into the middle of it. This is my life and I choose what happens to *me* -- not you, not anyone else. Me. *I* finally have control, and I'm not letting *you* take that away from me."   
  
"You think *you're* in control of this situation?" Angel shot back, "I don't know what you see, but what *I* see is Lucifer holding a contract signed in *your* blood for *your* soul. It seems to me like you're *last* in line for the control ride here, boy."   
  
Xander glared and opened his mouth to retort, but another voice silenced them all.   
  
"Take mine."   
  
Slowly, four very surprised faces turned to look at Spike. He was standing off to the side, arms crossed, his face completely unreadable. Angel shook his head.   
  
"Won't work, Spike. Your soul is already forfeit. It's already in the ether. Lucifer can't take a soul from the ether. It must be taken directly from the host--"   
  
"Then re-soul me, Peaches."   
  
Angel frowned, but Spike continued.   
  
"It's not like I use it much these days, you nit. Might as well do *something* helpful for a change. Don't look so bloody surprised. Maybe it'll keep the Slayer out of my hair for a while, if I help the Boy Blunder over there."   
  
Before Angel could reply Xander let out a long-suffering sigh, throwing his arms up in defeat.   
  
"And here I thought you of all creatures, Spike, would be glad to see me go. Don't tell me you're going soft."   
  
Spike turned to Xander, his face still unreadable. He crossed the space between them and suddenly had Xander up against a wall by his shirt collar, a typical Spike scowl on his lips.   
  
"This is not about you anymore, Harris. This is purely out of the selfishness of my own unbeatin' heart. If there's gonna be any sort of soulless wanker around to keep the Slayer on her toes, it's gonna be me, not anyone else. I don't want you getting in the way. The Slayer gets angry, she takes it out on me. I'm lookin' for a little peace and quiet these days, and if helpin' the likes of you is what gets it for me, then so be it."   
  
Xander just smiled a bit, shaking his head as much as he could around Spike's iron grip.   
  
"Keep her on her toes, huh? I'll bet that's not all you want--"   
  
Spike slammed Xander against the wall. Hard. Xander let out a groan, his eyes rolling back in his head, blood seeping from his nose. Spike pulled him down onto his feet and slammed his fist into Xander's nose, sending the boy sprawling down, face first.   
  
"You should remember to watch your mouth, whelp. You don't have a bloody soul to protect you from me right now. I'll take you apart if I have to. Stay out of this."   
  
Xander groaned weakly once more, but he had the good sense to keep his mouth shut this time. He stayed down.   
  
Spike avoided the astonished stares of the rest of the party and turned to the one he was interested in. Lucifer. Sitting in his finery on a chair a few feet away from the rest. He walked right up to the man, who was smiling.   
  
"I trade my soul for the boy's. The poncey ex-watcher over there will re-soul me, and I sign my soul over to you. Do we have a deal?"   
  
Lucifer raised a finger to his chin, feigning contemplation. His eyes roamed over to Xander, sprawled and bleeding on the floor. Then they moved to Wesley who was jumping out of his skin standing still.   
  
"Mr. Wyndam-Pryce.."   
  
Wesley started, a string of frightened stutters coming from his lips.   
  
"Um.. uh.. y-yes.. um.."   
  
"Quiet."   
  
Wesley clamped his lips shut.   
  
Lucifer stood, clasping his hands behind his back, slowly walking Spike as if to size him up. Spike crossed his arms once again, staring off at nothing, keeping quiet and still. Lucifer glanced again at Wesley.   
  
"You can give this creature back his soul?"   
  
Wesley swallowed and nodded.   
  
"I-I can."   
  
Lucifer nodded.   
  
"Done."   
  
The collective tension in the room seemed to drop by half. Spike took an unneeded breath.   
  
"So, fix up the contracts, Mr. Lucifer. I don't have all night, you know."   
  
Lucifer smirked, holding out his hand. A scroll appeared in a glimmer of light and dust. Lucifer unrolled it, reading the words aloud to the group.   
  
"The contract regarding the soul of one Alexander Harris shall hence be null and void upon the agreement of the undersigned parties, and only upon the agreement of the undersigned parties. Upon signing, the soul of one William Carter shall be exchanged and cast down to Hell in place. This contract is binding and completely unbreakable. Upon signing, no other soul shall be allowed exchange."   
  
Lucifer glanced over at Spike.   
  
"Are you in agreement, vampire?"   
  
Spike nodded.   
  
Lucifer glanced down at Xander.   
  
"Are you in agreement, boy?"   
  
Xander didn't answer. Angel glanced down at Xander, tilting his head.   
  
"Xander? Can you hear me?"   
  
Xander grunted, the words loosely formed.   
  
"Fuck off."   
  
Spike whipped his head around, game face sliding on.   
  
"You will agree to this now, whelp, or you won't live long enough to watch Angel beat the shit out of me for rending you limb from bloody limb."   
  
Angel knelt down and grabbed Xander by the hair, lifting his face from the floor. Xander's nose and chin were streaked his own blood, his mouth twisted in a mockery of a smile.   
  
"As much as I'd hate to miss that.. I suppose staying alive will be worth it. I always have the day Buffy dusts you to look forward to."   
  
Angel growled softly, tightening his grip on Xander's hair. Xander winced.   
  
"All right. Fine. I.. agree."   
  
Lucifer nodded, the very same pen Xander used to sign his soul away appearing in his hand. He walked over to the front desk and spread the contract out, motioning to Angel to bring Xander over. Angel stood, dragging Xander up by his hair. Xander let out a cry of pain, reaching up to wrench Angel's hand from his hair.   
  
"Fuck off, Deadboy. I can walk on my own, you know."   
  
"Then walk."   
  
Angel shoved Xander towards the desk, his face grim. Spike turned, meeting Angel's eyes for a brief moment. He saw only two emotions -- pride and despair. Spike knew that deep down inside, Angel had always hoped that his boy would someday join up on the side of good, but he knew that if Spike's soul was cast into Hell, that would never happen. He also knew that Angel saw a goodness in Spike right at this moment that he hadn't seen in over a century. He knew why Spike was doing this, and he was proud. Spike nodded at Angel, confirming his thoughts, and Angel returned the nod, the very corner of his mouth turning up slightly.   
  
Lucifer handed the pen to Xander, gesturing to the contract.   
  
"Sign. It appears you have plenty of blood available."   
  
The Devil smirked. It seemed the one thing he did best. Xander rolled his eyes, taking the pen and jabbing himself in the wrist, same spot as the first time, muttering to himself.   
  
"I always knew the Devil would be a smart-ass."   
  
The blood flowed more freely this time, behind the force of the jab, and Xander signed his soul back with a sloppy signature, speckled with blood. Lucifer retrieved the pen, then turned to Wesley.   
  
"The vampire will need his soul back before he can sign. Will this ritual take long?"   
  
Wesley shook his head.   
  
"No.. we have all the required elements present. It shall take about thirty minutes for me to go over some things and to properly set up, but the ritual itself should take no longer than a few minutes."   
  
Lucifer nodded, rolling the contract back up in his hand. It disappeared, along with the pen, and he took a seat once more.   
  
"Then what are you waiting for?"   
  
Wesley jumped to attention, nodding.   
  
"Oh, yes. Quite. Um, Angel, Cordelia? I shall need your assistance. Cordelia, you've performed the ritual before, I'm sure you have some knowledge of how things are set up. Angel, I need you to retrieve the Orb of Thesula from the vault."   
  
Cordelia and Angel both nodded and they all set about preparing.   
  
***   
  
Spike sat still on the edge of one of the lobby chairs, taunt as a bowstring as Wesley recited the last of the incantation that would restore his soul. Cordelia watched closely as she waved around the burning bunch of sage. Xander sat against the far wall, arms crossed indignantly, huffing like a spoiled child who was denied what he wanted.   
  
And then there was Angel.   
  
Spike refused to look at him. He knew exactly what he would see. Hope that Spike would decide to keep his soul and join Angel on the road to redemption, but the knowledge that in doing that, an innocent life would be destroyed. Then the guilt that if Angelus had never allowed Drusilla to touch William in the first place, that would be one less life under his belt. Spike gritted his teeth, unable to bear the waiting any longer. He wanted this over and done with so he could be away from his Sire. It was too hard being around Angel. It was too hard to deny the fact that, soulful wanker or not, he still loved the ponce.   
  
"Hurry up, Watcher. I don't have all bloody night."   
  
Wesley glared at Spike, but made no move to quicken his words.   
  
"Te implor, Doamne, nu ignora aceasta rugaminte   
Nici mort, nici al fiintei   
Lasa orbita sa fie vasul care   
i va transporta, sufletul la el   
Asa sa fie   
Asa sa fie   
Acum   
Acum!"   
  
As soon as Wesley uttered the final word, Spike clenched the armrests, opening his mouth in a soundless scream. His eyes flashed gold as a sound like rushing wind filled the room. Then all was silent. Spike crumbled out of the chair to his knees, raising his hands to his head. He shuddered. Angel walked slowly over to the fallen vampire, placing his hands on Spike's shoulders and slowly drawing him up. Spike whimpered softly, raising his head to meet his Sire's eyes. Angel held his childe's gaze for a moment, then spoke, his words soft and meant for Spike's ears only.   
  
"You help her."   
  
Spike shuddered again, nodding slowly. He lowered his head, but Angel shook him, making eye contact once more.   
  
"Even soulless, you help her. I can see it in your eyes. You love her."   
  
Spike convulsed one last time as his soul finally anchored itself into place. He gritted his teeth, his eyes welling up with a century's worth of tears.   
  
"Yes. Damnit, yes!"   
  
Angel reached his hands up, running them over Spike's hair, trying to soothe the trembling creature before him. He cupped Spike's face in his hands, drawing his it close to his, making eye contact one last time.   
  
"Then there may be hope for you yet, boy."   
  
Spike let out a strangled sob as the memories poured into him. He reached up, clutching desperately to Angel's shirt. His voice was raspy and full of pain.   
  
"I.. I.. Sire.. I'm sorry.. I'm so sorry.."   
  
Angel placed a soft kiss on Spike's forehead and held him, turning to Lucifer.   
  
"It's time. Do it now."   
  
Lucifer nodded, the contract appearing in his hand once more. Angel led his sniffling childe over to the front desk and placed the pen in his hand. Spike wordlessly brought his wrist to his mouth, slashing the skin with a sharp fang. He closed his eyes momentarily, then reopened them, dipping the pen into his welling blood, signing his name as the wound closed.   
  
As soon as that was done, the contract disappeared and reappeared in Lucifer's possession. He held it away from himself at arm's length, and as the rest watched in amazement, the name Lucifer was singed into the paper with jagged, fiery strokes.   
  
Lucifer rolled up the contract for the last time, glancing up as it disappeared in a burst of light and dust.   
  
"It is done. The soul of William Carter exchanged for the soul of Alexander Harris. This is permanent."   
  
Lucifer glanced over at Xander. The boy had his knees drawn up to his chest and was trembling through his tears. Lucifer pointed at Xander and his trembling stopped. He slowly raised his head.   
  
"Your soul is regained, boy. Never again be as foolish as you have been in the past, because I will always be there, waiting for you to screw up."   
  
Xander whimpered softly, lowering his head to his knees once more. Lucifer then turned his attentions to Spike. The blond vampire met his eyes, shaking his head slowly.   
  
"You know you won't get me as easily as that, old man. I'm here for the long run. Take my soul and have your jollies. It's only one less burden on me."   
  
Lucifer's hand shot out, palm-flat on Spike's chest. Spike clenched his teeth, a low growl erupting from his chest.   
  
"Your soul belongs to me now, William Carter. It will be cast into the Hell for all eternity to suffer torment and anguish, never to be released. When you finally meet your end, you will join it."   
  
Spike gasped as he felt his soul ripped away. Lucifer withdrew his hand, taking a step back, looking Spike in the eyes.   
  
"You may think you are immortal, vampire, but I happen to know that your days are indeed numbered. No one lives forever. No one. The next time you see me, you'll be on your knees kissing the hem of my fiery robe."   
  
Lucifer smiled once more and vanished.   
  
The room was silent for what seemed like hours. Finally Spike shook himself, a soft growl escaping his lips. He turned sharply, turning his gaze on Xander who was trying unsuccessfully to stand on shaky legs. Spike made his way towards Xander, ignoring Angel's warning that if he hurt Xander..   
  
Spike held out his hand to Xander, who looked up in confusion. Spike stood still, hand reached out. Xander slowly reached up, gripping it. Spike pulled Xander to his feet, searching the boy's brown eyes for a moment before nodding and releasing Xander's hand. Spike turned and grabbed his trenchcoat from a nearby chair and slid it on. He stood still for a moment, and then called to Xander with a sigh.   
  
"Let's go."   
  
Xander nodded and scurried out, as if all of Hell were at his heels. Spike made his way after him, but was halted as Angel grabbed him by the arm. Spike stopped and turned, meeting his Sire's gaze. Angel's eyes were sad, but his expression was nothing but completely serious.   
  
"You remember, Spike."   
  
Spike nodded.   
  
"You hurt her, or any of them, and you will have me to answer to. I may not be Lucifer, but you know from personal experience what hell *I* can be."   
  
Spike stared at him for a moment, then nodded once more. Angel released Spike's arm and the blond turned and walked from the lobby. Angel let out a shaky sigh, running his hands through his hair. He glanced around the room, as if making sure all signs of the previous hour were gone, then he grabbed his coat and made his way towards the door, following the footsteps of his wayward childe.   
  
"I'm going out. I need to think."   
  
Cordelia and Wesley nodded, even though Angel was already gone. They both turned to eachother, Cordelia letting out a nervous chuckle.   
  
"Well.. that was.. fun. Um.. how about a movie? I think The Grinch is still playing.."   
  
Wesley nodded a little too enthusiastically.   
  
"Certainly. Anything to get my mind off of this."   
  
***   
  
**The next night --**   
  
Buffy walked alone through the cemetery, the monotonous routine of nightly patrol really starting to get to her. She really hated patrolling alone. Not that she couldn't handle herself -- it was just so boring. Dead people, not much for conversations. And the vampires, well.. they mostly just wanted to fight. She sighed, humming to herself. Suddenly she stopped, sensing a presence of the undead variety trailing her. She rolled her eyes and placed a hand on her hip, calling out but not turning.   
  
"God, you'd think you vampires were Kamikaze pilots or something. Why even bother climbing out of your grave if you're just gonna follow me around all night, waiting to be dusted? Wouldn't it be easier to just do it yourself? Then at least I wouldn't have to bother beating your undead ass beforehand. You're wasting my time, too, you know."   
  
She pulled a stake from her jacket and whirled around, stopping as she saw Spike. She scowled and put the stake away, crossing her arms.   
  
"Don't you have anything better to do than to follow me around all the time? I don't really know if they have restraining orders for the undead, but believe me -- you keep this up and I'm sure as hell gonna find out."   
  
Spike ignored her.   
  
"Your boy's all better. He's sittin' at home, safe and happy with his little soul restored. No thanks necessary, Slayer. I'll be out of your way, now."   
  
Buffy blinked, staring at Spike in confusion. Spike rolled his eyes, shaking his head.   
  
"Do I have to bloody spell it out for you? I took the bugger to Angel and we fixed him up. He's right as rain. All dopey and normal again."   
  
Buffy smiled a bit, taking a few steps towards Spike, whose scowl deepened with every step.   
  
"Tell me something, Spike. Why did you do it?"   
  
Spike crossed his arms, glaring at Buffy.   
  
"He.. I.. figured, now he owes me. It's always nice to have something to hold over someone's head in case of emergency."   
  
Buffy raised an eyebrow, not buying a word of it. She knew she wouldn't get the truth from Spike, at least, not yet, so she just nodded.   
  
"Well, thank you, Spike. If there's anything I can do for you -- that doesn't include mass carnage, blood, murder, and/or mayhem, just let me know."   
  
She smiled once more, then turned on her heel and started off.   
  
"Slayer."   
  
Buffy stopped and turned back, watching Spike walk up to her, pointedly avoiding her eyes.   
  
"Need some company?"   
  
Buffy smiled and nodded, and the two walked off together.   
  



End file.
